Listening, not hearing
Sometimes I really struggle with fatigue. It creeps up and I get this ‘stuck’ feeling, where nothing seems to keep my attention, and I aimlessly wander from one half-finished task to the next.
I never had this battle before losing my hearing, but now it’s a chronic war being waged on my brain. I spent months digging into the reasons, spoke to some of my doctors and learned about ‘Listening Effort’.
To quote a much smarter person; ‘in contrast to cognitive demand, listening effort refers to the resources or energy actually used by a listener to meet cognitive demands’ (Peelle 2018).
The fact that listening effort is a thing has helped me to acknowledge when it occurs and to lessen the feelings of embarrassment and frustration. It doesn’t mean I don’t get annoyed; it just helps me to name why I’m feeling this way.
When I’m at work, to help me manage my fatigue I’ll often leave my ear on my desk for periods of the day. I always pop a note nearby. Listening effort can really hinder social contact, and I don’t want people to think I’m cutting them out of my day.
My desk at work today. (An office desk with Hannah’s audio processor lying on top. Nearby is a note, reading ‘I have taken my ear off to reduce fatigue. Please still interrupt and allow me to put it back on before talking)
I’ve tried to remember how I ever just cruised through the day with my natural hearing, whilst doing the same tasks. I’ve tried to communicate the experience to my hearing friends.
In my own words, I liken it to a car journey and the difference in mental effort for the driver and the passenger.
Yes, they both sit in the same car, they travel the same route, and they arrive at the same place at the end. But the driver must concentrate on everything from their speed, to the road, to the traffic, to the weather. The passenger sits and chooses if they want to look outside, scroll on their phone, take a nap.
Was the mental output equal?
Did Kuks’ experience mirror my own in this car ride? (a person standing next to the driver’s side of a car, reading a map. Both doors are open)
I am always concentrating on what I’m hearing. There is no ‘background noise’ in my world. I have to consciously register each sound and its location as my nerves can no longer do this for me.
This is an invisible aspect of deafness and living with hearing loss.
